Apres le Tour

Hitching a ride in the back seat of directeur-sportif Vittorio Algeri's car

Le Tour is over and the last rider has passed the line. Depressing, boring,
back to normal again. Everyone will be going home, and the barriers will be
hauled onto trucks, and soon again the traffic will be jamming the Champs Elysees
as if the world's greatest bike race had never taken place. There must be something
we can do...

Eagle-eyed as always, I spotted an empty seat behind Vittorio Algeri in the
Tacconi Sport team car. Even though I haven't been pedalling through the countryside's
of France for three weeks, or having been fed pasta for three consecutive weeks,
I still felt a need to parade!

I felt a need to travel up and down Champs-Elysées in front of the masses,
listening to them praising the riders. So I walk up. "Hello Vittorio. Terribly
hot weather, isn't it? Can I sit there?" He shrugs his shoulders, "Yes, come
in." Quickly I jump into the back seat of the car just before it turns out from
the crowded parking area where the riders try to relax while waiting for their
turn to parade. He drives slowly, so as to not crush anyone's foot or to push
an autograph-seeking grandma. In a tunnel of flags and hats we drive out onto
Champs-Elysées behind Dario Frigo, Eddy Mazzoleni, Gianluca Bortolami, Massimo
Appollonio and Mauro Radaelli.

I don't wave flags, and I did not behave noisily, but the 500,000 spectators
made it hard to forget, even for a moment where I was. The city was baking hot,
and people did what they could to protect themselves, but wet handkerchiefs
and sun screen can only do so much. What really protects you from the sun is
a good old cycling cap. From responsible journalist to mad tifosi in a second.

The crowds are also eager to get their fair share of the free stuff that is
given out. Everyone loves free stuff, so does cycling fans, and especially when
the free stuff says "Tour de France". The green PDM hands are a household improvement
when you want to applaud your favourite rider, and when sacks of TdF caps are
brought to the scene, nothing but a true riot can be expected. People fought
over the caps and held onto them with white knuckles long after the poor guy
with the empty bag had left.

The riders put on a show while slowly riding up towards l'Arc de Triomphe.
They are relieved that the race is over, arms and legs in place, and they do
their best to keep the colourful, multinational crowd pleased. Jean-Marie Leblanc
has stopped his car just after the green group of PDM enthusiasts. He cheers
the riders and talks to the directeur sportifs.

The boulevard steepens as the riders moves closer to the big roundabout at
the end of the road. From here we can look down over the street and really take
it all in. The heat makes the vision blurred. The flags, the barriers, groups
of riders everywhere, and the spectators, oh yes, the spectators. Vittorio turns
to me, "Quite the spectacle, eh?," he says with a grin - I can do nothing but
agree.

Mauro knows a trick. He can sit on the frame, turned to the audience, and still
pedal. Everyone is delighted. A bottle is requested from the car. Oh, the poor
riders, still dehydrated from the long and hot day! Someone else knows a trick
too, and needless to say, all the water ends up over Mauro.

We pass the party tent littered with Americans, and then the Basque fans clad
in orange. Following next is the Rabobank podium, coloured with hats, in orange
mais alors. Drums and whistles alarm from behind the barriers and the cars on
the street are quick to respond with their horns. We are now back at the foot
of Champs-Elysées, close to the big sculpture on Place de la Concorde. In the
other lane of the road, a happy American team is just about to start their "Tour
de Elysees" to the tune of "We are the champions".